Harry Potter and the Hero's Life
by tkp935
Summary: My take on Harry's life in the aftermath of his victory over Voldemort, beginning immediately after the battle, encompassing an 8th Year at Hogwarts, and leading up the events of the Epilogue 19 years later. Rated M for future chapters. HPGW RWHG
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling created and owns every character, place, and thing from the Harry Potter stories. I own nothing.

Author's Note: This is my take on Harry's life after his victory over Voldemort, starting in Dumbledore's office and concluding on Platform 9 and 3/4 nineteen years later. This first chapter shows Harry extremely moody and depressed, but that might just change down the line. Please review, and to quote Lester Bangs in _Almost Famous, _be "honest, and unmerciful."

Harry strode out of the circular office through the oak doors, receiving one last thunderous round of applause from the Hogwarts Headmasters as he exited. As he turned around to close the doors behind Ron and Hermione he gave a small wave of acknowledgement to the portraits, and as he did so his eyes glanced over a smaller painting that he had not yet noticed. In all of his weariness and fatigue, he had never let his eyes stray from the large ornate portrait of Dumbledore to the smaller portrait to its right. He stared in surprise from across the room into the deep black eyes of Severus Snape, who alone of all the painted professors was not clapping, but sitting with his arms clearly folded across his chest, unwilling despite his possibly contented look to publicly acknowledge Harry's triumph.

Harry paused, unwilling to close the doors just yet. Ron and Hermione turned and followed his stare right to the small oil canvas. Ron's eyes raised in shock and Hermione's lips parted as though to speak, but she refrained. Harry stood dumbstruck, unable to conjure up any words that could express his conflicting emotions to a man who he had hated for so long. His opinion of Snape was now so warped and twisted he no longer knew what to think, knowing only that it would likely be some time before he pieced together everything he had learned from his time inside his old Potions Master's memory. Nothing could change the fact that Snape had never treated Harry with anything but contempt and bitterness, and that he had consciously attempted to bring additional misery to Harry's life. However, as Harry stared into those black eyes, which he had always, until now, found so _cold_, he realized that he finally knew the whole story now, and could see how, from Snape's point of view, his hatred could be justified.

Snape's expression on the canvas was as unfathomable as it had been in life, but his eyes never lost sight of Harry's green ones, the last reminders of his life's one great love. Harry wondered if the portrait Snape was attempting to invade Harry's mind as he had done so often before, but Harry did not attempt to defend himself. Snape could gain nothing from Harry but conflicting emotions, feelings that likely felt quite familiar, as he probably felt the same way, if portraits could feel at all.

Harry's overriding sentiment at the moment, however, was one of gratitude, though he was not quite sure how to express it. Even had Snape lived, Harry would undoubtedly have never reconciled with him, for the experience would have been too painful and awkward for either of them, but Harry had no qualms about showing his appreciation for the incredible sacrifices Snape had made for him. "Thank you," he said, clearly and boldly, and everyone staring at him knew exactly to whom his statement was addressed. "Thank you for everything."

Snape did not respond verbally, but he did not have to. He inclined his head, first in a twitchy sort of jerk but then in a more formal, dignified fashion, and Harry knew that was all the response he would receive. Though Harry did not notice, Dumbledore was beaming from within his own frame, his brilliant blue eyes swimming with sparkling tears behind the half-moon spectacles. With a nod of his own, Harry closed the office door on Snape and Dumbledore one last time.

The trio followed the moving stone staircase down the tower in silence, unable to vocalize their current emotions. As they arrived at the base of the tower and strode across the threshold into the hall, they looked at each other with a note of apprehension, unsure of where to go from there. For the first time since the battle had ended, Harry realized just what a toll the struggle had taken on his best friends. Hermione was sporting two gashes down her right cheek and the ends of her curly hair were singed badly. Her robes were even more tattered and frayed than they had appeared after the escape from Gringotts, which, Harry realized with a start, had occurred less than a day earlier. Ron appeared even worse for wear, if possible. The entire left sleeve of his robe was lost, exposing a badly scarred arm and a lightly bandaged hand. His flaming red hair was matted with equally red blood, as though his head was melting in places. Harry was most upset, however, by his friends' eyes, which were puffy and red and crusted with dry tears.

Harry paused beside the wobbling gargoyle, which was attempting to replace its right hand on its dangling limb. A wave of exhaustion crashed over him as he stopped, flowing straight to his eyelids and attempting to force them closed as he stood. All adrenaline and energy gone, he just wanted to slump down on the floor and sleep in the hallway, but he was determined to make his way up to the dormitories and sleep in his familiar four-poster bed for the first time in a long year.

"You should get that looked at," Hermione said, and Harry opened his eyes grudgingly to see her staring with concern at Ron's raw arm, which he was gently massaging with his free hand.

"It's nothing serious, really," Ron responded, though he winced as he continued to soothe the nasty burn. "Greyback didn't go down too easily; I think his wand shot out a real nasty stinging hex when Neville and I tackled him; caught me right on the arm. Hurts like hell, though."

"Well, you should get it looked at anyway" said Hermione apprehensively. "I guess we should get back to the Great Hall. Merlin, it's a scene down there."

"Go on without me," Harry said, using his tender hands to push himself off the wall. "I'm going back up to the dorms to go to sleep."

Ron and Hermione shot bemused glances at one another when he spoke. Harry, knowing those looks too well, felt his stomach drop. "What?" he asked.

"Well, Harry," Hermione started cautiously, "I guess you haven't noticed yet, but Gryffindor tower is well…gone."

"What?" Harry cried out, aghast. "You mean it…"

"Yeah mate," Ron responded, when Harry could not continue. "I imagine all of those Slytherins were happy for the chance to take a few shots at it. And we did have some fighters up there, so it was a pretty natural target."

This news hit Harry like yet another blow to the gut, the most recent of many from the night's events. Gryffindor Tower was the one place that had ever felt like a true home to him, and Voldemort had managed to strip Harry of it as well, the last blow he had been able to deal out before his demise.

All that mattered, Harry tried to tell himself, was that the Dark Lord _had_ finally met that demise. This last thought hardly cheered Harry, as he had not yet fully grasped the concept of a world without Voldemort. He tried to think of what such a world could be like, and that thought did manage to improve his feelings slightly. It seemed incomprehensible that there would be no more fear, no more hiding, and no more deaths. The losses hurt, and would continue to do so for some time, but Harry had dealt with loss before, and had learned that the pain, sharp though it was, did not last forever. It might take some time to rebuild the world they had once known, but they had that time. They had all the time in the world now.

The image of the warm, comforting bed wiped from his mind, Harry begrudgingly followed Ron and Hermione back the other way down the deserted corridor, headed for the Great Hall. The wreckage of Hogwarts Castle was on full display, and Harry wondered how long it would take to fix, even with magic. The hallways were littered with rubble, forcing the trio to pick their footing carefully as they progressed. Stairways lay collapsed, portraits hung shattered, torches and chandeliers fell strewn in utter ruin. The exterior walls were riddled with holes, some the size of beach balls, others far larger. It was through one such gaping cavity on the Eastern side of the castle that Harry looked out over the now peaceful grounds and found that the sun had risen nearly to its apex in the cloudless sky. The brilliant light it cast over the quiet grounds fell sharply upon the unmoving corpses of Death Eaters and Acromantulas scattered across the lawn, and Harry could just make out the enormous foot of a lifeless giant jutting out from around a distant turret.

As the trio made their way silently down what remained of the grand staircase into the Entrance Hall, hundreds of voices reached their ears. Harry dreaded reentering the room. Dozens of mourners remained within waiting to speak with Harry, thank him for what he had done, and receive his acknowledgement for their fallen loved ones' sacrifices. Others, who had been blessed enough to survive the battle without losing loved ones, were bursting to celebrate, restrained only by the anguished looks on their neighbors' faces. Harry could not bear the stifling atmosphere of the room, and felt that after all he had been through in the past day, much less the past few years, he deserved some rest.

However, he could not shed the feeling of obligation that hung as weightily around his neck as another locket Horcrux. Every one of those fallen wizards had sacrificed themselves for him, for his quest, and he owed all of his success to them. Their sacrifices pained him more than their deaths; for though he had succeeded, he could not help but think that there could have been a way to succeed without forcing others to forfeit their lives for him. He had not even recognized the faces of a startling number of the fallen; of comrades who had never known him but had been willing to die for him anyway. He had been willing to give his life for them as well when his time to sacrifice himself arrived, and yet he had been spared, as he always was, while they had passed on.

Guilt racked Harry's weary soul, mingling with the sorrow over the loss of Fred, Remus, and Tonks. How could he face Mrs. Weasley again, after all she had done for him, when he had sentenced one of her sons to die? How he could face any of the Weasleys? Ron, perhaps, would understand, having stood by Harry from the beginning, but Harry could no longer be sure of the rest. Even Ginny, who Harry had thought about with worry almost endlessly throughout the fight, might feel differently towards Harry now that he had robbed her of an older brother, of someone she undoubtedly cared more for than him. Harry would have liked nothing more than the possibility to celebrate his victory with her, but he knew that she must be distraught over her loss, and might not be able to stand looking at her old boyfriend for some time.

Harry's depressing thoughts began to weigh him down, to the point that he could no longer even see straight. This was supposed to be his great moment of triumph, a celebration of his victory over the dark force that had plagued his life and the lives of so many others for years, and yet Harry could feel neither joy nor elation, only growing surges of grief and anxiety, waves of guilt and regret for the way everything had unfolded. Ron and Hermione's comments about a group of passing House Elves flew right by him; his focus fell solely on his own burdens. His head was swimming as his horrible thoughts began to snowball and escalate, and tears began to sting the corners of his eyes as his emotions spiraled out of control, plunging him into a state of deepest depression that no happy thought could penetrate.

"Harry?"

Hermione's tentative voice brought him back around, though barely. Looking up, he found himself standing on the threshold of the Great Hall a few feet behind Ron and Hermione, both looking back at him apprehensively. Behind them, there was a flurry of movement as the remaining victors buzzed around the hall greeting and consoling one another. A handful had stopped to gaze back at the trio paused in the doorway, hoping to catch a bit of their conversation in passing or jostling for position to draw Harry's attention upon his reentrance.

Harry, however, could not go on, could not pass that invisible barrier separating him from all of the families torn apart for his sake. "I can't," he said softly, his voice trembling. "It's too much for me right now. I need to rest and…clear my head."

To his surprise, both Ron and Hermione nodded their understanding. Hermione stepped forward and squeezed his hand supportively. "We'll be here for you, when you're ready. You know that, don't you?"

Harry met her look and nodded appreciatively. "You always have been." Turning to Ron, he said, "You should be with your family; I'm sorry for taking you away from them."

Ron shrugged his shoulders in an unconvincingly nonchalant manner. "Glad to come with you, mate. I needed to get away for a minute myself, and besides, my family probably didn't even realize I was gone. Sounds like the House Elves are preparing some lunch though, you sure you don't want any?"

Harry shook his head. "I might have Kreacher bring me some," he replied. "I'm going to go down to the lake; it should be quiet down there."

"Good call," Ron said, "Come back up whenever you're ready."

"Harry?" Hermione asked his name tentatively again, as though nervous about what she wanted to say next.

"Yeah?"

"They're going to ask questions, you know. Everybody is going to want to know the whole story, now that it's all over. They have a right to understand how he was defeated. Do you want us to wait for you to come back before we start explaining things?"

Harry thought about this for a moment. For a second he pictured himself recounting all of their amazing adventures to a Great Hall stuffed with an enthralled audience, but then realized that he longer cared about the glory that came along with his deeds. In fact, he would prefer not to tell the story at all; he felt that it had become very personal and was full of details the public was better off not knowing. Still, Hermione was right; now that the conflict was over, the world had a right to know how Voldemort had fallen. Moreover, he would probably feel better once all of the secrets he had withheld were out in the open. He would no longer need to be evasive or guarded; he could afford not to play his cards so close to the vest.

"Don't wait for me," he replied, shaking his head as he spoke. "We shouldn't keep them waiting. Tell them everything; I'm sick of keeping secrets anyways."

Hermione frowned slightly. "Are you sure?" she asked. "It is your story to tell, after all."

Harry snorted derisively. "It's as much yours as it is mine. Don't wait for me. In fact, I'd prefer you told it now; I don't want to be there at all when it first comes out. I'm sick of all the stupid fawning and adulation. You guys should get some of it for a change. If I have to clear something up later I guess I will, but for now, I'd really prefer to be left alone."

"Suit yourself, mate," Ron said with a shrug. "The looks on some of their faces are going to be priceless, though."

"Yeah, I know," Harry replied, almost managing to grin. "Feel free to embellish wherever necessary; you know…for dramatic effect."

Hermione beamed, clearly relieved to hear Harry break out of his solemn brooding. Ron chuckled appreciatively, shaking his head. Taking Hermione's hand in his and letting out a deep, calming breath, he turned and walked into the Great Hall to rejoin his mourning family without looking back. Harry felt guilty for his inability to help Ron in his time of loss, but was glad that Hermione was there to support him. Harry followed their steps for a few moments with his eyes, uplifted by their words of reassurance and overwhelmed at his fortune to have two such loyal friends. Turning his back on the Great Hall and his friends within it, he strode off through the open threshold of the castle and out across the ruined lawn, heading down towards the lake, which lay completely calm, its little ripples gleaming in the sunlight.

The grounds that he had roamed so many times over the years looked so different now, the earth torn up and scorched by stray curses and hexes. Trees lay uprooted on their sides, branches splayed at odd angles, no doubt the work of the rampaging giants whose clash seemed to have engulfed the entire campus. Bodies lay strewn across the grass, small trickles of red blood seeping through the blades of green grass around them. Hagrid's hut, he saw with another pang of despair, had been reduced to rubble; the smoke rising from its remains was still spiraling into the air. Grawp lay sleeping next to his brother's old home, his enormous chest heaving as he snored loudly. Across the grounds, the Whomping Willow appeared docile and still, its remaining limbs hovering ominously over the bodies of several of its Death Eater victims. Harry trudged along, letting each of these sights soak in, not paying attention to where he was going. His legs knew instinctively where to take him, and they deftly sidestepped corpses and debris as they carried him right down to the edge of the lake, where Harry found himself at last in the shade of a large oak tree.

Harry plopped down on the ground gracelessly, his legs aching from the hours of walking and running they had been subjected to without rest. A cool breeze whipped past, ruffling Harry's hair and rustling the oak leaves above him. Harry was glad to see that this tree was still standing unharmed, for it was under its bows that Harry had spent many of the happiest moments of his life during the weeks of his relationship with Ginny. They had spent hours nestled comfortably with their backs against its solid trunk, talking, laughing, and engaging in other memorable activities together, away from prying eyes and overprotective siblings. Despite the war going on around them back then, Harry had not had a care in the world while he was with Ginny; the touch of her soft lips on his had erased all thoughts of pain and hardship. Now, as the wind carried back that wonderfully familiar scent of fresh dew that he had become so well acquainted with during his many excursions down to the lake, Harry longed to return to those careless hours, to forget all of his recent sufferings.

He had thought of Ginny by the minute over the past year during their time apart, missing her presence more than he ever would have thought possible. All of those nights that he had spent lying awake in the tent staring at her unmoving dot on the Marauder's Map had proven as tough a test as searching for Horcruxes and evading Death Eaters. She had seemed so close then, and he had traced his finger over the letters forming her name on the parchment, as though by doing so, he could somehow touch her, but he had known in his heart that she was worlds away, and far safer than she would be with him. His one comfort was that he had never seen her alone with another boy on the map and hoped, rather selfishly, he admitted, that she was still planning on waiting for him to return.

Surely, though, she had given up. Harry knew just how strong willed Ginny Weasley was, just how stubborn she could be. He knew how angry she must have been at his decision to leave her behind, at his refusal to correspond with her at all. He knew she understood why he had done so but also knew that she would not possibly have accepted his reasoning, that she would have given anything to come along. She probably cannot stand me anymore, he thought gloomily, closing his eyes and leaning back on the tree to steady himself. Harry had broken her heart and then robbed her of a beloved brother; two crimes that he felt sure would not go unpunished. Harry was trying to accept the fact that by trying to protect her he had probably driven her away forever. Though the thought made him miserable, he sought comfort in the fact that at least he would be able to live the rest of his life knowing that she was safe, even if she no longer wanted to be with him.

There were others, however, who had not been so fortunate, and as Harry's thoughts returned to dwell on the seemingly endless line of bodies lain carefully across the floor of the Great Hall, he felt as though his chest was clamping down on his heart to pop it like a balloon. So many needless deaths, so much loss; it was unbearable to think about. Fred's death had hit him hardest, for it was unlike any he had yet witnessed. With the exception of Cedric Diggory, the people who had died trying to protect Harry in the previous years had been older, and though the loss of parents and guardians and mentors had been unbearable, Harry had at least been able to accept their choices because it had been, in a way, their duty to aide and protect him. Cedric's death had shocked him because it had been so pointless; he had died merely because his presence disturbed Lord Voldemort's plans, but Harry had never really considered Cedric a friend, merely an acquaintance at best and for a long time a rival.

Fred, however, was most definitely a friend, practically a brother, but had had no obligation or duty to fight for Harry at all. Harry could not possibly feel anything but guilty over such a needless and early loss of life, as though it was all his fault that he had gotten Fred involved. Everyone I have ever loved, he thought, has been scarred or hurt, or even killed, simply because they associated with me. It was a thought more painful than any he had ever experienced, and was reinforced by the fact that Fred had not been the only one to perish on Harry's account that night.

Remus and Tonks, he thought with another lurch in his stomach, had died needlessly as well. If only Harry could have disposed of the other Horcruxes sooner, none of them would have needed to die. Harry could have sacrificed himself earlier, and so protected them as thoroughly as his mother had protected him. Harry had failed, however, had only destroyed the Horcruxes through sheer luck and chance, through one absurdly fortunate turn after another. Had he not spent months musing over the Deathly Hallows and longing to possess them, had he focused his search entirely on the Horcruxes all along, perhaps he could have succeeded earlier. Now he would never know if he could have succeeded in time, if he could have prevented Remus and Tonks from dying and orphaning their brand new child.

Harry's thoughts turned hopelessly to Teddy, Harry's godson. What an awful godfather he must be, to deprive his charge of both his parents and sentence him to the same parentless youth that he had known. Harry swore at himself in hatred, vowing to do everything possible to help Teddy grow up as loved as possible. He could already see the parallels in their two lives, but was determined to make Teddy happier than he himself had ever been, even if it meant raising the boy with his grandmother himself. He did not know how he could face Andromeda, what words he could say to express his sorrow for causing her to lose a husband, daughter, and son-in-law in such a short span of time and leave her to raise a baby alone at her age. Harry had never hated himself as he did now, had never felt such all-encompassing despair.

I must be cursed, he thought bitterly, cursed to hurt everything around me. It was all just so unfair, he realized, so unfair that all of this could happen to him. He had known nearly eighteen years of pure misery, with short snatches and moments of happiness to raise his hopes every so often only to be swallowed by the ever-growing bleakness of his own existence. He drew his knees up to his chest and clutched them as tightly as he could, bowing his throbbing head into them and letting the grief that had been building up inside him break over.

He wanted nothing more than to run away and hide, to be anyone but Harry Potter, to spare his friends of any more grief on his behalf, to start over and know love without pain and happiness without sacrifice. He wished, for a few horrible moments, that he had not been given the chance to come back, that he had "gone on" and left all of this suffering behind him. At least death had been peaceful and warm; he understood now why Dumbledore had told him not to pity the dead, even if he could not stop feeling grief and guilt for their early departures. He deserved such peace for all his suffering, for his years of deprivation and for his willingness to sacrifice himself for those around him, for his courage in the face of death and his unwavering devotion to his friends and his cause. He had strangely welcomed those moments of tranquility back at King's Cross, whether they had been real or not. However, Harry had come to expect an end to all such moments, and naturally, he had been forced to return out of an obligation to save the rest of the damn wizarding world. He was glad he had been able to do so, and he did not for a second regret his decision, but now that everything was over, he wished that once, just once, he could have the peace of mind that he deserved.

He could see no such peace in sight, however; his forecast had somehow never appeared gloomier. He would have thought that ridding himself of the piece of Voldemort's soul that had been corrupting him for so long should have eased his woe, as removing the locket Horcrux from his neck had done without fail, and yet he had never known such frustration as he did now.

He did not know how long he sat wallowing in his own grief, his long pearly tears spilling forth onto his knees, but he did so until he could cry no more. He found that his outburst of pent-up emotions might have helped, for though his mood did not improve, his outlook was no longer deteriorating further. He did not feel any better, but at least the downward spiral had stopped and his emotions had stabilized. Perhaps, of course, he had simply hit rock bottom, but if so, at least he had nowhere to go but up.

Taking some small measure of comfort in this otherwise miserable thought, he allowed himself to finally give in to his body's demands for rest, and he curled up under the tree, removing his glasses as he did so. Not wanting to be disturbed, he pulled out his Invisibility Cloak from within his robes and spread it carefully over his body so that he could sleep in peace. As he did so, he found that his wonderful Hallow made as comfortable and warm a blanket as he had ever owned. Thankful for the comforting abilities his cloak provided, Harry faded instantly into a mercifully dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

"Harry?"

The soft, inquisitive voice seemed to drift up from the blackness of his sleep, as though calling to him from miles and miles away.

"Harry?" It called once again, despite his attempts to ignore it and continue sleeping, for only in sleep did he seem to find warmth and comfort now.

Suddenly he felt a soft nudge in his hip and he grudgingly opened his eyes in response. The sun was glowing warmly on his face, hanging below the guard of the tree limbs above him, much lower in the sky than it had been when he had fallen asleep. His focus, however, fell entirely on the outline of the person standing over him, and though he saw only a blur, he knew instantly whom it was.

He pushed his head out from under the Invisibility Cloak, unable to hide any longer. He could not imagine how strange this must have appeared to the person standing over him, who could see only his head lying on the ground, seemingly detached from the rest of his body. Hastily pulling the cloak aside to reveal the rest of himself, he groped for his glasses on the ground before realizing that the person above him was holding them out in front of his face. Reaching up wordlessly he took them, and as he pushed them carefully onto the bridge of his nose, he blinked. When Harry opened his eyes, Ginny Weasley came into focus beautifully before him, stealing his breath away momentarily.

"Hey," she said softly, "I brought you some food." Harry's glance lingered only briefly upon the plate of sandwiches in her hand before drifting over the rest of her body, taking her in more thoroughly than he had been able to do in months. Despite her unkempt and battle-worn appearance, he felt as though she had never looked more gorgeous, with her fiery red hair cascading down over her shoulders like waves of brilliant golden flame atop her petite body. Her tattered robes could not hope to hide the shapely curves beneath them, which had grown far more pronounced in the past year, Harry immediately noticed. He looked up into the face that he found unmatched in beauty radiating down upon him, her soft features and smooth skin perfect in every detail. Amazingly, even in their bloodshot state her soft brown eyes still managed to blaze with the fire that had won him over so long before.

Harry sat up slowly, unable to find words to express the wave of emotions overcoming him, accepting the platter of sandwiches as Ginny stepped delicately over him and sat down on his left, resting her back against the tree as she had done so many times before.

"Thanks," Harry finally managed, taking a large bite out of a sandwich. "I had thought about asking Kreacher for some food, but I couldn't bring myself to give him orders right now."

"Well, the House Elves started bringing up sandwiches a while ago, and I saw Kreacher with them, so I figured you hadn't called him. I knew you must be famished." Harry looked up and found Ginny staring at him, the worry in her eyes very evocative of her mother.

"Well, you were right, as usual," Harry stated. "I haven't really eaten since, well…" Harry paused to think, unable to remember his last meal clearly, "Two nights ago, I guess. Back at Shell Cottage."

"That's what Hermione said," Ginny responded, "Mum nearly had a fit when she heard."

Harry closed his eyes and frowned at the thought of Mrs. Weasley worrying about him, even after he had set in motion the events that had robbed her of a son, but tried to focus his attention back to Ginny, whose presence was making him feel remarkably uneasy. "How did you find me?"

"Well, Hermione told me you had gone down to the lake, so I came to look for you." She blushed slightly and flicked her eyes towards the ground. "And I just sort of wandered down here, to this spot, because, well, it just seemed sort of natural."

Harry felt his own face grow red, realizing that her legs had carried her here just as instinctively as his own had, longing to return to the location of some of their most cherished moments together.

"Even though I couldn't see you," she continued, "I just sort of _knew _you had to be here. Then I saw your glasses and I knew that I had been right." Their eyes found each other again for a brief moment, before Harry looked away sheepishly and began devouring a second sandwich.

They sat there for a moment in silence, the only noise coming from the soft padding of the lake against the shore, and Harry chewed slowly, knowing that Ginny was waiting for him to speak. Summoning up what courage remained in him, he asked a question whose answer he had to know but was dreading to hear. "How are things up there?" He inquired, nodding his head in the direction of the castle before turning to look back into those dazzling brown eyes.

Ginny paused a moment before speaking, as though choosing her words carefully. "Busy," she answered finally, "Really busy. Most of the people from Hogsmeade have left, and a lot of the parents who showed up have taken their kids home, but half the Ministry has shown up to figure out exactly what happened, and a whole team of people from _The Prophet _is up there interviewing everyone in sight. They are all looking for you; I imagine you are going to make the front page again tomorrow."

She said this last line jokingly, but Harry, in his anxious state, detected a bitter note that was not present at all. "I don't want any of that," he said quickly, defending himself from nonexistent accusations.

Ginny raised her eyebrows slightly but looked down at him with an evident pity that he hated to see. "I know that," she said softly, "but somehow I don't think you're going to be able to avoid it. You may not have noticed, but I think you just defeated Voldemort. That is kind of a big story to some people."

The similarity in her joke and the one Ron had made after their escape from Gringotts was not lost on Harry, and he grinned ever so slightly, a bit flustered by her ability to make jokes at such a moment. Ginny, apparently delighted to see something other than apprehension and grief on Harry's face, loosened up slightly and grinned back rather sheepishly, braving a small laugh at her own words. Before he knew it, however, and much to his discomfort, Harry saw the look of pity in her eyes evaporate into one of adoration.

"You were so brave," she said, "I don't know how you could have looked him in the eye like that when he was so angry and stood your ground. You even insulted him, which was great by the way. I don't think anyone had seen anything like it. It was quite a sight, you know. The legend just keeps growing, I guess."

"Yeah, well, I just want the legend to stop, damn it," Harry spat bitterly, the grin vanishing from his face. Under normal circumstances, Ginny's complements were music to his ears, but now they only evoked reminders of all of his burdensome responsibilities as Chosen One. "I am sick of being put up on a pedestal just for doing what I had to do all along. I am sick and tired of being treated differently, when anyone else would have done the exact same thing in my situation. I knew he couldn't kill me, so facing him didn't really take any bravery at all. I don't deserve any recognition for just standing there and getting him to fucking kill himself. Really, it wasn't all that hard. If anything, you should be cursing me for letting so many people die when I could have prevented it. If I had just acted earlier…"

"Ok, just stop," Ginny interrupted forcefully, frowning dangerously. "You stop that kind of talk right now, Harry Potter. You can put down your own achievements if you want, but don't you dare go holding yourself responsible for anyone else's death. It is not your fault, got it? Everyone who fought in that battle knew the risks. Remus, Tonks, F-Fred," her voice broke slightly as she mentioned her brother's name, but, blinking her eyes rapidly to halt any unwanted tears, she steadied herself. "They knew what they were facing as well as you or I did, maybe even better. I am absolutely _devastated_ by my brother's death, and I'd really prefer not to talk about it right now, but I will not sit here and listen to you try to take responsibility for it."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Ginny was hardly finished, and he quickly deferred to her. "Remember what Sirius said; back when that snake hurt Dad? 'There are some things worth dying for,' he said, and well, shit, this was one of them. I am absolutely fucking positive that my brother did not die in vain. He died a hero fighting for the noblest cause he could find, and his decision to fight made our victory possible. You can sit here and mope all you want, but I refuse to blame you for anyone's death. Well, except maybe for Voldemort's, which, surprisingly enough, is the only one you don't seem to want to claim for yourself."

Ginny took a couple of long, heaving breaths as she finished her diatribe. Harry stared at her warily, gazing into the fiery eyes he knew so well. Ginny was a very outspoken young woman, but he had never heard her speak with such force or conviction, or with so many words that would have earned her a reprimand from Mrs. Weasley, and he was both amazed and unnerved by her ferocity. Still, her words did little to assuage his guilt, and tearing his eyes away from hers, he shook his head. "You don't understand," he said, putting down the empty sandwich plate.

"Oh, really?" Ginny was gazing at him coldly now, and Harry, who had stared down the most evil wizard in history mere hours earlier, could not bring himself to meet her gaze. "What do I not understand? Try me."

Harry sat in silence for a moment, annoyed by her persistence but unsure of where to begin. Finally, after a long, awkward pause, he began to speak, though he didn't plan any of the words that came out of his mouth. "I survived a Killing Curse again last night, Ginny. But I only survived it because Voldemort acted like a greedy bastard a few years ago by taking my blood when he rebuilt his body, insuring that my mother's protection would always protect me from him. But how I survived doesn't matter; what matters is that I managed to."

He finally stared back up at her, pleading with her to understand this crucial point. "Don't you get it? I got lucky again. Somehow, I always get saved by some unbelievable stroke of luck. See, here's the thing. I was willing to die last night to protect everyone else at Hogwarts, just like my mother died to protect me. And had I just sacrificed myself at the beginning of the fight, before midnight, not only would I have still lived, since Voldemort couldn't kill me, but I would have sealed the protection around everyone else here before the battle even started. No one had to die! But because I was too scared to give myself to him earlier and face him myself, fifty people died, fifty people that I could have saved by acting earlier."

Ginny did not seem at all convinced by this revelation, but she seemed to measure her argument before speaking again. "Ron and Hermione told us everything this afternoon, while you were gone," she said quietly. "I know all about the Prophecy, and the Horcruxes, and the Hallows, and Snape, and about your mission from Dumbledore. And…about how you were a Horcrux too. I know all about how you…how you walked to your own…death last night, and if you can't see the ridiculous amount of bravery that must have taken, well then you really are crazy. That point aside though, to think that this is all your fault is just ridiculous."

She steadied herself for a moment before beginning her own argument. "Forgive me for sounding like Hermione here, but your logic is pretty far off on this one, Harry. There's no way you can look at this whole mess objectively and come to the conclusion that it's all your fault."

"You're right," Harry replied coldly, "You do sound like Hermione."

Ginny brushed off his comment. "Well, I know it wasn't your intention, but I'll take that as a compliment, thank you. Ready to feel stupid?" Harry did not respond. It was almost impossible for him to feel anger at Ginny, who he cared about more than anything in the world, but her inability to see his faults was pissing him off at the moment. Realizing that she was not going to receive a reply, Ginny continued.

"Let's see here, make sure I've got this straight, since you heard the Prophecy, you knew that you were the only one with the power to defeat Voldemort, right? So you couldn't just hand yourself over to Voldemort before you had found the other Horcruxes, now could you?"

Harry stared at her for a second. "Yes, I could," he said defiantly, "I should have, because I would not have died, but could have saved everyone else _and_ have kept looking for the Horcruxes afterward."

"But you didn't _know _Voldemort couldn't kill you, did you?" Ginny continued her point every bit as strenuously as Harry did. Harry opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it, grudgingly admitting that she was right. He had not known of his own resistance to Voldemort's spells, had been convinced at the time that he was going to die. Had he known otherwise, handing himself over would have been far easier. He slowly shook his head, conceding this minor point to Ginny.

Encouraged by his hesitation, Ginny pushed forth her argument. "So based on what you knew at that point, there was simply no fucking way you could turn yourself over, because you knew you were the only one who could finish him off, and that you hadn't finished your job yet. Good thing you didn't know, too, because if you _had _known you couldn't die, then taking his Killing Curse wouldn't have been a sacrifice at all, and it wouldn't have done shit for us. You said so yourself, when you faced him; what really mattered was that you were _willing_ to die for the rest of us. Your ignorance saved us as much as your bravery, that time."

Harry stared dumbstruck at Ginny. This simple train of thought made perfect sense when she said it, but he had completely missed it earlier in his determination to heap all of the blame on himself. He cast his eyes down to the ground, pulling up knots of grass with his hands, sheepish in his complete inability to think as objectively as Ginny had.

"So basically," Ginny finished, when he did not speak. "You actually played this hand perfectly. You weren't too late figuring anything out at all. If anything, you pieced it all together at the perfect moments. You didn't hand yourself over until you had learned that you actually had to if you wanted to make Voldemort mortal. You were willing to die but unaware that you wouldn't, and in giving up your life, you insured your own success. I know you're too thick to admit it, Harry, but you really are brilliant."

"Oh, save it," Harry spat, a bit too viciously. Noting the hurt look on Ginny's face, he apologized quickly. "Sorry, that came out wrong," he said. "I see what you're saying, and you're right, I guess, but that doesn't change the fact that I could have found the Diadem months ago. I mean, I knew all along that he just _had _to have a Horcrux at Hogwarts, but I never tried to look. I had even _held it_ before. I could have gotten rid of that Horcrux a long time ago, and then the whole battle could have been avoided. Like I said, nobody had to die." He stated this last point as resolutely as possible, crossing his arms defiantly to punctuate his conviction.

"Did Dumbledore ever find that Horcrux?" Ginny asked this quick question rather evasively, as though trying to slide it past the defenses he had erected.

"Well, no, but he didn't know where to look…"

"Harry, listen to me. If Dumbledore couldn't find that Diadem even though it sounds like he looked for the Horcruxes for years, then there is no way that you could have reasonably expected to find out about it earlier. Moreover, even if you _had_, there is just no way you could have gotten into Hogwarts and found that Horcrux without the Carrows finding out. Voldemort would have figured out what you were doing and would have stopped you earlier."

"If I had just acted on my instincts…"

"You _did_, Harry," Ginny said, "Because they told you not to go back to Hogwarts. They were right, too, because you would have been caught, and we would not be having this conversation because Voldemort would still be alive, with his Horcruxes safely hidden in new places. And you would be dead, because even if he couldn't kill you, any of the other Death Eaters could have done so very easily, and I'm sure they would have been delighted to. You always act on your instincts, and like Remus said, they are usually right. This time they saved us all."

Harry grasped his head with both hands, as though trying to block out Ginny's argument. He was so ready to accept responsibility for all that had happened that it was almost as if he did not want to hear that it might not be his fault. He could not explain why he felt this way, knowing only that he felt guilty and wanted to justify that guilt. However, he knew that he could not argue with Ginny's points, so he turned to his last, most desperate argument.

"You're right, Ginny, I know you are," he conceded hopelessly. "But not about everything. See, Voldemort marked me for death before I was even born. I had no choice but to fight, because he was never going to stop hunting me. His main goal since he returned to power was to murder me, so I had no choice but to face him eventually. Half the people I loved have died because Voldemort was so damn determined to kill me, and if they had just stepped back they would all still be alive. The burden of facing him was mine alone; nobody had to fight except me. They did not need to die; Voldemort was just after me."

For the first time since their conversation began, Ginny looked at Harry with sadness. "Harry, you can't possibly believe that," she said, "Yeah, Voldemort wanted to kill you, but he wanted to rule the whole wizarding world as well. You didn't just fight because you had to; you fought him because you _wanted_ to, because it was the right thing to do, because you wanted to protect the rest of us. You were not just trying to save your own neck; if you had been, you never would have tried sacrificing yourself for the rest of us. I mean, you did want to fight for us, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah, of course," Harry said, "I care about all of you, you're all I've got; of course I fought for you!"

"Exactly!" Ginny exclaimed, leaning forward in excitement. "If you can fight for us then why can't we fight for you? Why couldn't we fight for each other? Why is it that you can sacrifice yourself for us but we cannot do the same for you?"

"Because," Harry responded, "You didn't need to. I told you, Voldemort was just after me…"

"And you could have run away where he never would have found you. But you stayed and fought. You cannot have it both ways, Harry; either you fought because Voldemort was after you, or you fought to protect this world and everybody in it. Either way, you _chose _to fight, and so did we. Dumbledore always talked about how we all had choices to make, and this time we all made the same decision. We all fought for the same reason, even if the stakes were higher for you than for the rest of us. So how can you, the boy who was willing to sacrifice himself for everyone else, not be willing to accept the fact that someone else might be willing to do the same?"

"I…" Harry could not finish the sentence, but simply sat there with his mouth slightly open and his head turned at a crooked angle. "I was the only one who could defeat him, the Prophecy said so, so anyone else's attempts to fight him would just be futile."

"You may have been the one charged with defeating him personally, but that doesn't mean the rest of us couldn't help! In fact, there is no way in Hell you would have succeeded without our help; don't even try to deny it. There was no way the rest of us were going to sit back and watch you try to fight Voldemort and his whole fucking army alone; you wouldn't have lasted five minutes, and then our only hope would have been gone. We needed you to kill him, but you needed us to help you. Everybody had a role; we needed each other. Don't demean our decisions to fight by claiming that we were just wasting our time."

"That's not what I'm saying, not what I meant at all," Harry replied, shocked that she could possibly think he did not feel grateful for the aide he had received. "I know that I never could have done it all by myself, but I guess I…I just feel guilty that other people had to die in order for me to win. I could have saved more lives tonight than I did, nobody should have _needed_ to die for me."

"They didn't just die for you," Ginny said coolly, "I mean, I wasn't just fighting for you. I was fighting for my family and the rest of my friends too, and so were Fred and Tonks and everybody else. Sorry, Harry, but you are not quite _that _important. We all fought for each other, so it is pretty damn selfish of you to think that everybody just died for you. You didn't force anybody to help you, so you don't deserve any blame for their sacrifices."

Harry felt the tower of guilt within him begin to crumble at the top, though the base remained rooted and intact within his own paranoia. "If I had just been quicker…" he started again, pleading with himself.

"Harry," Ginny asked softly, interrupting him again. "Do you honestly, deep down, believe that you could have gotten rid of the Horcruxes any faster than you did?"

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed with a piercing cry, "I spent months sitting in a tent, doing nothing. I could have found them so much earlier…" His voice trailed off. As he thought about it, Harry began to realize, deep in his heart, that this simply was not true. He had been extraordinarily lucky to find the last few Horcruxes at all. In fact, had he not spoken Voldemort's name by sheer accident, he never would have been taken to Malfoy Manor, never would have heard Bellatrix let slip the location of Hufflepuff's Cup, never would have seen Voldemort picture the hiding place of Ravenclaw's Diadem. Had he not broken that Taboo, he undoubtedly would still be on the run, sitting in the tent dreaming about Hallows, making no progress in his quest while more people died around him. Realizing that only such an unbelievable sequence of events as the one that had occurred could have led to the destruction of all of the Horcruxes, he finally, with great effort, but with a lighter heart, changed his answer. "No," he admitted with resignation, "I could not have found the Horcruxes any earlier."

As he said it, he felt the knot around his heart ease, as more of the guilt that was wracking him began to melt and trickle away. "Right," said Ginny encouragingly, "As cheesy as it sounds, it really is amazing how things work out sometimes. Whatever had to happen happened, and you wound up at Hogwarts, and so did the rest of us. At that point, we all made the decision to fight, aware that we might die. We fought for one another, and we won. Some of us died, some of us lived, but we all made our own decisions independently, and since I don't see any new ghosts floating around the castle, I take it that even those who died are at peace with their decisions and have no regrets about passing on."

Harry stared, mesmerized, at Ginny, and he saw the truth in her eyes. He knew in that moment that she was right, that everyone had fought their own fight independent of his own, and everyone had met the fate that awaited them head on. His guilt was dissolving more rapidly, but he was unable to shed it all, and he saw that Ginny understood that he wasn't entirely convinced of his innocence yet. She seized both his hands in hers, squeezing them tightly and leaning towards him to complete her exorcism of his guilt. "Harry," she said, her forehead almost touching his, "It's over. It is not your fault. Feeling guilty will not bring them back, it will not accomplish anything. You have nothing to regret, _nothing_; you did everything you could, and you won. You won, Harry, and your victory ensured that none of your friends died in vain. They died…they died hoping to create a safer world for the rest of us, and you made their hopes a reality. Wherever they are now, I know they are content and proud of what they did, and of what you did for them."

The force of her words struck Harry as hard as the Killing Curse had hours earlier, and with an undesired gasp he released all of his pent-up grief at last, with one loud, unrestrained cry, throwing his head unashamedly onto Ginny's shoulder and burying his eyes in the cloth of her robes. Ginny ran her fingers through his hair soothingly, comforting him as only she could. "It's ok," she whispered into his ear, "It's all going to be ok. We're safe now; we did it."

Harry fought back the tears that were coming again, but failed to stop them. Pulling his head up, he saw with shock that Ginny, who was almost never weepy, was crying unabashedly as well. He knew it was selfish of him to be moaning about his own, relatively trivial complaints, when she was the one who had just lost a brother, but he felt the need to justify his unfriendly actions. "I'm just so sick of people dying around me," he croaked, "I just wanted it to stop. I felt so responsible, because so many people I knew and cared for have died around me, and it always seemed like they did so to protect me. I've been stupid, I know that; but the responsibility I have had to deal with…no one should ever have to face that, it's just overwhelming. I have had the fate of the whole damn wizarding world weighing down on my shoulders for so long, and when I thought about all the people who died, I…well, I just felt like I had failed them."

He had done it; he had finally worked his way, with Ginny's help, to the root of all his guilt. The feeling of failure had been gnawing away at him ever since he had first seen the line of bodies defacing the Great Hall, the feeling that it had been his responsibility to protect them from Voldemort, and that he had failed them all.

Ginny beamed up at him. "You did _not_ fail them, Harry, you won for them, and you finished their task, made their sacrifices count. You saved us all from a world controlled by Voldemort. You won, Harry, you won!"

Those simple words, which he had already heard so many times, back in the Great Hall after his conquest over Voldemort, finally hit home when they came from Ginny. "I won," he repeated to himself quietly, "I actually did it."

Ginny wiped her tears away, choking back a laugh. "That's right, you won, and now it's over, it's all over."

"It's over," Harry repeated softly, and the words truly, finally sunk in and reached his heart, driving away the last remnants of guilt that remained lodged stubbornly there. He would never have to worry about Voldemort again; he could get on with the peaceful life he had desired for so long. Elation swept over him for the first time since he had seen Voldemort's body hit the floor, and he flung himself onto the ground, looking up into the canopy of branches above him, arms spread out wide across the ground in welcome relief. "IT'S OVER!"

His joyous outburst made Ginny jump slightly, but then she too slid down the back of the tree so that she was lying next to Harry, sliding her small right hand comfortably back into his left. He gripped the small hand assuredly, his fingers intertwining with hers seamlessly. He closed his eyes for a few long moments, letting the peaceful epiphany of victory and finality linger until he could accept it completely, allowing it to cleanse him of all the thoughts of guilt and failure which had been tearing him apart. He felt like a new man, relieved of all his burdens, his conscience clear and pure, and he owed it all to the person who had always understood him, always been able to confront him, and always helped him find happiness even in his dourest of moments.

Opening his eyes finally, he found that the sun had fallen considerably since Ginny had arrived; half of it had now sunk beneath the horizon, but the remaining half shone out from directly behind Ginny's head, a golden halo crowning her blazing hair. Longing flooded into Harry, joining the other wonderful feelings he now embodied, but he restrained himself. He wanted nothing more than to pull her close and feel the lost touch of her moist lips again, but knew that such an action would be unforgivably inappropriate in light of her recent loss.

"I'm so sorry about Fred," he said softly at last, "I was right there when it happened, we never even saw it coming. I know exactly how you feel right now, and I've learned that clearly no one can shoulder the pain of losing someone alone. You've always been there for me, so now if there's anything I can do to help you, anything, just name it."

Ginny closed her eyes, squeezing out two more fresh tears that glided smoothly down her cheeks. "Thanks," she said, displaying a weakness that she rarely showed. "I think I'm still in shock. When I saw his body…" She could not continue for a few moments, and Harry gripped her hand reassuringly, as if to show that he was there for her just as she had been there for him moments earlier.

"Mum's beside herself," she continued after a while, her voice quivering. "I've never seen her so upset. George is really torn up, too. I can't even imagine what he is going through right now; they were so close. It's just awful; I never really thought that…it could happen to us. I mean, half of the family has been injured in this war at one time or another, but we always managed to stay alive…" She stayed silent for a long time, clearly unable to vocalize all of the grief within her. Harry grasped her hand more tightly, promising not to let go.

She opened her eyes again and, finding strength in Harry's adoring and caring gaze, she shocked him by grinning once again, ever so slightly. "But he was smiling," she said dreamily, despite choking up as she spoke. "Smiling, of course. He m-must have been enjoying himself, like he a-always did; I don't think he could take even a battle over the f-f-fate of the entire wizarding world s-seriously. He was always so easy g-going, and I am sure that he is still happy wherever he is now." She paused for a moment, taking deep breaths. When she spoke again, her voice rang out miraculously stronger and clearer, fueled by resolve. "The last thing Fred would ever, _ever_ want to do is make someone cry; he always just wanted to make everyone laugh. He would be _so _pissed if he saw us here crying over him now; I just know it. He died…so that we could enjoy the rest of the time we have left to us, and I, for one, plan on doing so."

Harry gazed at Ginny with admiration, marveling at her strength, the long dormant monster rousing loudly from within his chest. He should have then agreed with her or continued her praise of Fred, but she was all he could focus on, all that seemed to matter in that moment. He didn't mean to say the words that burst from his throat next, but simply could not refrain from expressing how he felt about her. "You're incredible, Ginny," he blurted out, "I've never met anyone as strong as you. You can always find the silver lining in every situation, and somehow you always know exactly what to say to make everything seem ok."

Ginny smiled weakly back at him, her eyes swimming with tears but still as fiery as ever. She might have wanted to continue talking about Fred, but she seemed genuinely flattered by his honesty. "Well," she said, "That's just with you. Somebody has to straighten you out and show you how stupid you can be. I guess I'm the only one brave enough to deal with the Chosen One."

"Must be why I fell for you in the first place," Harry said chuckling, realizing that as he lay there staring at her, he was only falling for her harder than ever. "I'm sorry I hurt you; you know I only wanted to protect you."

"That damn nobility," she responded, rolling her eyes and sighing, "Must have been why I fell for _you_ in the first place. I knew you were going to do it, even though I didn't want you to. It would have been completely out of character for you _not _to break up with me. As much as I wanted to stay with you and help you, I think your conviction only made me like you more."

"It didn't make you hate me?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Oh, it did," Ginny responded, shrugging her prone shoulders. "For a little while, at least. I was pissed at you, and you hurt me; I'm not going to deny that. If you had tried to come stay with us about a week earlier this summer, I might have done the Death Eaters' job for them. But I calmed down some as I started to miss you, and then when you were nearly killed again, I realized just how worried I was for you, and how badly I wanted to hold on to you and not let you leave me behind. I was sort of hoping, back at the Burrow, that when I kissed you for your birthday you might change your mind and take me with you, but naturally Ron just had to walk in and ruin it."

"I'm glad he did," Harry said honestly, "Because you were definitely making me second guess myself. However, if there is one thing I do not regret from this past year, it was leaving you behind." Seeing the wounded look on her face, Harry hurriedly explained himself. "I'm sorry, but as bad as that may sound, it's true. It was such an obvious decision, but it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I wanted to be with you so badly, but I was more worried about keeping you safe, and now here you are, alive and well. So I succeeded towards that aim, I guess. I was afraid you would hate me for hurting you like that, but I would gladly prefer that to you getting hurt when Voldemort figured out how I felt about you. I would never be able to forgive myself if you got hurt on my account."

Harry paused, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb as he lowered his voice. "I did miss you, though. Merlin, I missed you so much. I would lie awake at night for hours just watching your dot on the Marauder's Map, and I just wanted to run to Hogwarts and apologize to you. I would have given anything for more time with you, anything."

"I missed you too," Ginny responded, the wounded look on her face replaced with one of affection, speaking as tenderly as he did, playing with his fingers as she spoke. "I always hoped you might just show up at Hogwarts one day and sweep me off my feet, but I knew you wouldn't. Neville was so sure you would come back for us, but I knew you weren't coming back unless you absolutely had to, that you had more important things to take care of first, even if I didn't know what they were."

She looked down, and her voice trembled again as she spoke next. "When I heard him say that you were…you know, dead, earlier last night, I refused to believe it. I was so scared when I walked out of the castle at what I might see. And then I saw Hagrid walk out of the Forest with your body, and it was so much worse than I could have even imagined, and, and…I lost it, Harry. I just broke down completely. We had already lost Fred, and when I thought you were gone, too…it was like all my hope left me. It was like…like a thousand Dementors were all around me. I couldn't take it; I couldn't breathe, couldn't believe you had given yourself up for us, and left without saying goodbye. I think my heart just shattered; I've never been so devastated, I thought I'd never recover."

Harry saw that she was crying again and felt guilty once more. "I'm sorry I scared you," he said, his eyes full of remorse. "It was all I could do to play dead while I heard your screams. I just wanted to run out and let everyone know I was ok, but I just couldn't do it yet, because I had a job to finish. But when we were in the Great Hall, and I saw Bellatrix nearly kill you, I forgot all about my mission. I was about to go for her instead, but…well, your mum beat me to it."

Ginny stopped sobbing long enough to let out a short burst of laughter, rolling over slightly to look up at the limbs above them, wiping her tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. "Yeah, I'll say she did. Wow, that was something. I have never seen Mum look that scary before. Completely justifies our fear of the woman. 'Not my daughter, you bitch!'" Her imitation of Mrs. Weasley's cry was perfect, and Harry laughed as well, blissfully recalling all of the times Ginny had made him laugh before, and what had usually followed their bursts of laughter. Lying there, in that spot they had visited so often, laughing like they had so many times before, he almost forgot himself, and, without thinking, he leaned forward instinctively to kiss Ginny just as he had always done after one of their laughs. Remembering immediately that he had broken up with her and that she might not want him kissing her ever again, he was filled with dread at the thought of losing her friendship forever with his rash actions, so he pulled back and tried to play off his jerk towards her.

Ginny, however, was observant as ever, and her smile faded as she looked back at Harry, fully aware of what he had almost done just then. She gazed pointedly into his face, eyes swimming behind a mist of tears, as though trying to read his expression, which he knew must be giving away his desire for her. "Why did you stop?" She asked accusingly, her eyes boring into his.

"What?" Harry asked quickly, unsuccessfully playing dumb and blushing slightly as he realized that she had caught him.

Ginny sat up slightly, pulling back defensively. "You don't want to kiss me anymore?"

Harry paused, unsure whether it was wise to admit just how much he wanted to do exactly that, fearing that she no longer cared for him after all that he had done. He decided, however, that he owed her the truth, and that she was well worth the risk. "I do," Harry said pleadingly, "But I thought that it would be…well, inappropriate right now. I mean, I ditched you, and I can understand if you hate me and no longer think of me the same way." He looked straight upwards, unable to gauge her expression, before spilling his complete feelings to her. "Even if you hate me, I've never felt this strongly for you, and I wasn't about to hurt you again by imposing myself on you if you don't have feelings for me anymore. I want you to be able to make your own choice whenever you're ready."

Ginny stared at him for a second before grinning widely, evidently relieved. "Oh, I see," she said, "Trying to put all the pressure on me, are you Potter? Going to let me make the decisions and take all the initiative so that you don't have to? You're not getting off the hook that easily."

"No, no, no," Harry stammered, "That's not what I meant. I've already made my decision, but I just didn't think it was my place to pressure you like that, when I don't know if you still like me or not. I don't want to put any pressure on you at all right now; I know that you're dealing with enough as it is, without me trying to impose my feelings on you too."

Ginny sighed. "Relax, Potter," she said, "I know exactly what you meant, but I wasn't going to let you get what you want that easily. Like you said, you ditched me, and you had better believe that you have a lot of work to do to make that up to me. But I could never hate you, even if that stubborn nobility of yours can get really damn inconvenient sometimes."

"How can I make it up to you?" Harry sat up as well, bringing his eyes level to hers and looking straight into them, abandoning all of his defenses. "If you don't have feelings for me anymore, I'll understand, and I won't try to change your mind. But I will do anything to make up for what I've done. Anything, just name it."

"Anything?" Ginny raised her eyebrows mischievously, her mouth dangling open in a sly grin.

"Anything," Harry repeated resolutely, desperate to prove his sincerity.

Ginny beamed at him, relief shining in her gaze as she stared at him in exactly the manner he had longed to see again. "Well, I am going to hold you to that, Potter, and rest assured you're going to wish you had never made that promise." Ginny leaned in so that her lips hovered dangerously close to his, and he could feel her warm breath upon his face as she lowered her voice to a seductive whisper. "But you're in luck, because my feelings for you haven't changed at all. So for now, you can start making it up to me by finishing what you started a minute ago."

Without thinking twice, Harry closed the final inch separating him from Ginny and pressed his lips firmly upon hers, kissing her more passionately than he ever had imagined possible. His eyes closed as she returned the kiss, her lips as soft and moist as he remembered them. Bliss overtook him instantly; the heat of their kiss melted the whole world around him. His hand crept up to her face and tilted her jaw up so that he could kiss her even more fully, and then his other hand was in her hair and he was playing with the soft strands that he had missed so much. He felt her gentle fingers close on his face with a welcome jolt, warming his skin, and he twisted his head to kiss her from a different angle. After several euphoric moments, they pulled back and opened their eyes, and Harry smiled widely.

"You don't know how much I've missed that," he said, pressing his forehead up against hers, his nose barely grazing hers.

She smiled back, and her lips moved to his ear, exciting him as she breathed on it when she spoke. "Oh yes I do."

Then they were kissing again, more tenderly and caringly than they ever had before, and Harry pressed his tongue against her lips, tasting their sweet musk before they parted, allowing him to slide inside and explore the inside of her wonderful mouth. Then her tongue was gently tickling his as it found its way into his mouth, and he welcomed its return after too long an absence. Their tongues wrapped together, pulling their lips even more tightly together. Their bodies entangled in harmony as they lay back down on the soft grass, legs interlocked and grinding together, chests pressed together tightly, hands searching each other's hair and clasping each other's backs.

Harry rolled back and pulled Ginny on top of him, feeling the wonderful sensation of her warm body pressing against his, her legs rubbing against his thighs and her soft breasts pressed against him. Her hair fell down around his head, ticking his ears and enshrouding his face from the outside world, so that had his eyes been open he would have seen nothing but her. She was the only real thing in existence; all of his cares evaporated as their bodies fused together passionately. His hands ran from her hair down her back to her wonderful soft ass, which he playfully squeezed, causing her to squirm with pleasure, moving her mouth to attack his neck with a flurry of kisses and nibbles that made him moan softly. He pulled her closer to him, grinding her center into his, feeling the warmth emitting from the secret place between her legs that made the blood rush to his manhood, which he pushed against her, causing them both to gasp simultaneously. He traced a line of kisses from her jaw to her shoulder and then reconnected his mouth to hers, draping his arms around her back so that he could feel her heart beating rapidly in sync with his.

Harry did not care how long they remained there, rolling around in a tangled knot of limbs, but when he finally emerged back into the real world he found that the sky was now a velvety black, the last traces of light clinging to the horizon as a thousand twinkling stars danced brightly overhead. He rolled off Ginny and lay on his back, completely content and peaceful. They lay there, cuddled together, Ginny's head resting upon his chest, rising and falling with each of his breaths, for a few minutes, eyes to the stars and faces melted into grins of the deepest happiness.

"I never gave up on you," Ginny said quietly after a while, running her hand across Harry's head, tracing the lightning bolt scar upon his forehead. "You really hurt me there for a while, but I never could give up on you."

"Well I, for one, am damn glad you didn't," Harry replied, stroking her head tenderly. "How about you?"

"Couldn't be happier," Ginny replied simply, "Given the circumstances. Amazing how these things work out sometimes. I guess it was just meant to be, no?"

"Hmmm," Harry pondered this for a moment, hoping that she was right. Ginny glanced at her watch.

"We should be getting back," she said, "I'm stunned Mum hasn't come looking for us yet. Maybe she knows more than I think she does."

Harry raised Fabian Prewett's battered gold pocket watch, and realized with a jolt that he had been lying under the tree since around noon, and was thankful that no one besides Ginny had tried to disturb him. Kingsley or McGonagall had undoubtedly warned all of the Ministry officials against going near him. "Ok," Harry said, putting his arm around Ginny and embracing her tightly. He kissed her one more time, savoring her taste upon his lips, before backing off and kissing her on her forehead.

Harry found it very difficult to stand up after so many hours lying on the ground, and his legs nearly gave way when he placed all of his weight upon them. He clung to the tree in support, staggering forward into Ginny, who caught him in her arms and laughed. Harry slowly took his arms off the tree and, when he was sure he could stand, wrapped them around Ginny's waist, staring down into her sparkling eyes, which were gazing up at him in adoration. He kissed her once again, unable to resist, closing his eyes instinctively as he dissolved back into peaceful oblivion. When she pulled out after a minute or so, he opened his eyes and, surveying the landscape before him, saw something he had not noticed earlier, and was reminded of the one last task that remained.

He looked down at Ginny, knowing that he wanted her with him for what he was about to do. "There's one last thing I have to do before we go back up," he said, "And it's actually best that we do it when it's dark. I have one more promise to fulfill tonight."

Ginny did not inquire but simply nodded her head, taking his hand in hers. Harry began leading her on a course around the lake, eyes fixed straight ahead. Ginny followed his gaze to where it was fixed onto the white marble tomb gleaming out amongst the last remainders of light directly behind it, a reassuring beacon that drew them closer. The tomb's reflection rippled brilliantly on the lake, shining as brightly as the image of the moon that lay in the middle of the dark water. Harry and Ginny made their way silently around the lake, the tomb shining more luminously with each step. The sun's light was completely gone by the time they approached the noble monument, and Harry felt weak in the knees as he approached it.

He had no desire to see Dumbledore's corpse again, but after all of the other dead bodies he had seen that day he felt more prepared than he would have otherwise. Someone had resealed the tomb along the line that Voldemort had cut open with his yew wand, and with a small jolt, Harry knew that it must have been Snape, Dumbledore's most loyal follower all along. Harry let his hand fall from Ginny's grasp and, taking a deep breath, he slipped his hand into his robes and removed his three wands from underneath his folded invisibility cloak. He placed Draco Malfoy's hawthorn wand back in his robes, then considered the Elder Wand in his left hand and the holly wand it had repaired in his right. For the slightest moment, he considered holding onto the Elder Wand and claiming it for his own, wondering just what he might be able to accomplish with the world's most powerful wand. Then he remembered his promise to Dumbledore's portrait, and after a slight pause, he lowered his left hand to his side as he raised his right hand above his head, certain that Dumbledore would prefer to have his tomb opened with the wand housing a tail feather from his loyal old Phoenix, Fawkes.

He swished his wand silently, instinctively thinking the proper incantation silently. The tomb glowed along the line carved by Voldemort weeks earlier, and the two halves of the tomb's cover swung upward silently like a set of double doors. Harry approached the coffin silently, full of dread at the thought of what he might find. He stood over the head of the coffin for nearly a full minute before he raised the courage to reach out and grasp the majestic purple burial shroud beneath his fingers. He pulled the heavy shroud back with one stroke, revealing the corpse of his greatest mentor. Albus Dumbledore's face was peaceful in death, his eyes closed as though sleeping behind the half-moon spectacles perched atop the crooked nose. Harry stifled a whimper, remembering Dumbledore's suggestion not to pity the dead and, drawing strength from Ginny's presence behind him, he lifted the Elder Wand and slid it carefully under Dumbledore's folded hands. The wand slipped into place seamlessly, as though happy to return to its old master for the rest of time.

Bowing his head for a moment of silence, Harry thought back to all of his moments with the old headmaster, wondering what advice Dumbledore would have had for him during such an instant. As he pictured the headmaster sitting comfortably behind his desk, fingers pressed together as though praying and eyes dancing brightly, a large smile crept to Harry's face. Dumbledore was at peace, happily undertaking the "last great journey" that he had spoken of. He had rejoined Ariana, Percival, and Kendra at last, and was possibly happier than Harry had ever known him. Harry knew that he would see Dumbledore again someday, beyond the veil, but for now, it was time to get on with his own life, the life he had won for himself.

Stepping back from the tomb, Harry raised the holly wand one last time and swished it back the other way, causing the tomb to reseal itself silently, the crack between the two halves glowing brilliantly for a moment. Then the light faded softly into darkness, sealing forever the final resting place of the greatest wizard and wand the world had ever known.

Harry turned back to Ginny, who understood how he felt without asking. He hugged her tightly, drawing strength from the embrace once again. Sliding his wand back into his pocket, he took her hand in his. "Let's go," he said quietly, and she nodded up at him. Without another word, they set off hand in hand, leaving the tomb behind as they made their way together through the darkness back towards the lights glowing from within Hogwarts Castle.


End file.
